


Choosing to Trust

by narayu



Series: Until I met you. [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 00:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narayu/pseuds/narayu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another series of Captain Swan drabbles, because I just can't let go of these two fools.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choosing to Trust

She’s walking away from him again. He feels like she’s always walking away, turning her back when the conversation gets too serious, too emotional, too uncomfortable for her. Emma Swan has been hurt before and if he’s being honest with himself, he can’t promise she won’t get hurt again… but he would like the opportunity to show her that he’ll do everything in his power to protect her.

It’s a reaction, a movement made without thinking, he extends his arm just slightly until his hook encircles her wrist and she turns toward him, expression hard, determined, but he thinks her face softens just a bit when she looks into his eyes.

"Hook - I.." she starts but trails off, noticing his gaze on her wrist where she hasn’t moved to remove it from his hook.

"You don’t flinch," he says quietly his eyes meeting hers again, seeing the confusion there, not sure where he’s going with this.

"When I touch you with my hook, you don’t flinch or back away, why?" He asks her, genuinely curious.

Her brow furrows, and to his surprise she looks to be at a loss for words when finally she says very softly:

"I’m not afraid of you, I know you wouldn’t hurt me." And her eyes are looking everywhere but at his and he realizes this is an admission of trust. She _trusts_ him. He smirks, trying to take the weight out of the situation for her.

"But I thought you were always ready for a fight, love, always in defensive mode. When did you decide to try trusting me?" When she looks up again, she smiles and it’s a wry sort of smile, but he can see the sincerity behind her eyes.

"Maybe I just needed reminding that I could," she says in barely a whisper, and all at once he forgets why he had stopped her in the first place as hope blooms anew in his chest.

 

* * *

 

She wonders what kind of women  _enjoyed_  having men fight over them, as she keeps her eyes on the path ahead of her. 

 _Idiots,_  she thinks, pushing on, and she’s vaguely aware of David and Mary Margaret speaking quietly to one another from somewhere behind her.  _Good, at least they’re talking again._

All she needs to focus on is getting Henry back, but instead she’s got two missing magic users with who-knows-what up their sleeves, a father who can’t leave the damn island, and two men who’ve lived for three centuries fighting over her like a couple of children.

She groans, and Mary Margaret is by her side in an instant with concern etched in her features.

"Sorry, I’m fine, just…" she trails off, not even certain she knows how to explain this to her mother. But apparently she doesn’t need to.

"I know," she pats Emma’s shoulder reassuringly, "what are you going to do?"

Emma looks at her mother in confusion.

"Do about what? I’m going to get Henry back." she says matter-of-factly, and doesn’t realize she’s stopped her progress until David, Neal, and Hook catch up to them. She sighs, continuing on.

Mary Margaret smiles one of those smiles that says she knows what Emma is going through, and at this point she highly doubts that’s true, but ignores the instinct to be defensive about it and lets her fall back into step with her husband.

Hook is at her side next, and she rolls her eyes as she looks away, not in the mood to play this game with him.

"You know, love," he says softly, "this isn’t just your burden to bear, we’re all here to help."

And what he’s really saying, and what she hears is  _you’re not alone anymore._

And it’s not the first time she’s heard it, her parents have said it often enough. It’s not even the first time she’s believed it. But there’s something about hearing it from him, from Hook, that means something else.

When she turns to look at him finally, she’s struck by the notion that Hook has potentially nothing to gain from being here in Neverland, and possibly everything to lose. When she cocks her head to the side and really looks at him - noting the ease at which she feels with him - she sees the truth of his words even more clearly.

_I’m not going anywhere._

And she smiles at him, a genuine kind of smile, and enjoys the confusion that flickers over his face before she turns to continue their trek.

At some point they are going to have to talk about this, but not today.

 

* * *

 

It's curious how it happens, but its definitely noticeable.

He feels himself thinking about their safety... as a group, not just himself, not even just Emma, but all of them.

He finds himself believing her when she says they're all getting off the island, they're all going  _home._

_Home._

What a foreign word. He hasn't had a home beside the Jolly Roger for as long as he can remember. The implications of the word both excite and terrify him.

When she says it with such conviction, he knows she's not as sure as she appears.  _Open book,_  he thinks when she looks at him. 

 

And she does it more and more often. Looks at him. For confirmation, for reassurance, for answers. He's not sure when she started looking to him so much, but just like home - it excites and terrifies him.

He is acutely aware of how bloody important it is to him that he not disappoint her.

 

Bitterly, he thinks things were easier when he cared only for himself and his revenge.

But then she smiles at him, the genuine, unguarded smile that she shares so rarely, and he knows he's lying to himself. Being alone is never easy, and when the only thing keeping you warm at night is your plot for revenge, you're always alone.

 

So he smiles back, his reassuring smile, the one she looks to him for. Because he wants to give her everything she's looking for, and deep down, he  _believes._

* * *

She tried to ignore it at first. It wasn't that she denied she was attracted to him, she had realized that fact the moment she met him. Not the whining, one-handed blacksmith that hid under a pile of bodies to save his own skin. But the witty, handsome, challenging pirate that had turned on Cora to help them.  _Not that he had a choice_ , whispered her traitorous subconscious.

She had pretended there wasn't something there when he touched her that first time, placing the cuff around her wrist, his fingers touching her pulse point. She ignored the racing of her heart at the touch, the tingling sensation he left on her skin. She fixed the careful mask over her face, the one she wore near constantly at that point in her life, and joined him in the climb.

The next time he touched her it was with his hook, and she was surprised when she didn't flinch or pull away. His fingers didn't touch her that time, thank heaven, but she was just as mesmerized by his eyes and his mouth as he dressed her wound. Still, she didn't let the mask slip, her attraction could be her weakness in the company of this man.

It was the last time their hands touched that day, before she left him at the top of the beanstalk, that rattled her. She had gotten the compass, she had made a deal with the giant, she just needed to get away from him to be sure he wasn't still working for Cora. Funny thing about that was, every past experience told her not to trust him, but she was sure he was telling the truth, she could  _feel_ it, she just wasn't willing to chance it.

When he held out his hand for her, she placed hers in his and the sensation was back. He just smiled at her while she floundered with herself. She clasped the chain around his wrist and backed away before she could talk herself out of it, and when he pleaded with her she couldn't meet his eyes. Her heart was racing from whatever effect his touch had on her and with the regret of what she was about to do. When she looked in his eyes finally she blinked at the way she was feeling.  _Look out for yourself, Emma._  her subconscious hissed, and she apologized, leaving before she could change her mind.

Later she had tried to rationalize the charge between them as a residual effect of her magic, it must react that way when she comes in contact with others from the Enchanted Forest.  _Why not Neal? Or Graham?_  Her subconscious asked her, and she didn't have an answer, so she pushed it to the back of her mind.

In Neverland, it was unnerving to be around him, in a way that both bothered and delighted her. It seemed he tried to touch her subtly whenever he had the chance. And if the brief touches of their skin caused sparks, the kiss they shared caused a damn wildfire within her and Emma couldn't shake it.

Her mask was cracking, and now was not the time for that. Not with Neal around, not with Henry needing them.

So when he sat beside her by the fire she'd made with her magic - she still wasn't sure how - and his hand rested next to hers on the jungle floor, she felt it again as their skin brushed, just barely touching. And she had to excuse herself because right now, in her vulnerable state, she didn't know how to fix the mask and part of her was ready to launch herself at him, just to feel that connection again.

As she rounded the corner she realized they had plenty of firewood, water, and food, and she had nothing to occupy herself with on this spontaneous walk through the jungle. She leaned against a tree, catching her breath, wondering why the hell she was out of breath from just a touch in the first place. 

"What the hell are you doing to me Hook?" she growled out under her breath, speaking to no one.

But of course he was there in an instant, had followed her out of the clearing. She didn't hear him, but felt his presence, smelled the mixture of sea, and leather, and rum that was his distinct scent. 

"I could ask the same of you, Swan." He breathed at her ear, frustration evident in his voice. That was surprising. She thought this was all a game to him, but whatever he was playing at was getting to him and she looked to him in confusion.

"What, you're the only one allowed to hide behind your walls?" He asked, reading her like a book.  _Like I said, open book._  She remembered, and expected him to repeat. But he didn't. His face was inches from hers and he looked... angry. 

The charge was in the air, electric heat, and she had an internal battle between the logical part of her that wanted to push away from the tree and put some distance between them, and the rest of her that wanted to grab him by the collar and kiss him again, to feel  _that_  again.

Again he read her intentions before she made a move and he squared off in front of her now, pinning her hands to her sides with one hand and one hook, looking in her eyes intently.

"Make no mistake, Emma, I meant every word." he breathed. "I  _will_  win your heart." He looked down at her hands and back up to her face. "Not like this, not while you're upset, and vulnerable, and looking for something else... comfort maybe..." he said, searching her face and nodding when he found the answer he was looking for. "Not like this." he whispered, so close that she felt his breath against her lips and realized she was holding her own breath.

In in instant, he was gone, pushed away from the tree, released her hands, and was standing a safe distance away from her. She realized her heart was beating so loudly she was sure he could hear it, she was breathing heavily as though she had just run a marathon, and she missed his contact immediately.

When she looked up at him, satisfied that her body had stopped betraying her, he looked... wounded. Her mind was brought back to the day she left him at the top of that beanstalk, the look of disappointment on his face. And the day he told his secret in the echo caves, when he looked like he was just waiting for her to say something that would prove him a fool for giving her his heart. As if he was sorry that he had to say it, sorry to burden her with his feelings. 

Something passed between them, though she'd said nothing since he had made his presence known, the resolve was in her eyes she knew, and his face changed then. And it wasn't the wounded stare from moments before, it wasn't the anger from before that, it wasn't the flirtatious smirk she'd grown to know so well, or the mischievous grin she both feared and loved. This was something different, she'd seen it once before. Hope, faith, she wasn't sure which, but in that moment the energy between them changed, he had seen the truth in her eyes, and made a decision. 

He took three very deliberate steps, slowly, so she understood his intentions, and she held her ground. This wasn't about being vulnerable, it wasn't even about escaping - not entirely - and she made every attempt to make that clear in her eyes as he approached her. Knowing he'd see it, knowing somehow that he'd understand.

When he was a hair's breadth away from her lips he hovered there for a moment, daring her to close the distance as he trailed his fingertips from her wrist to her shoulder before curling them around the side of her neck. Every touch was electric and she gasped at the feeling. Something passed over his face that told her he felt the same thing. And his eyes darted from her mouth to her eyes before his own mouth claimed hers.

The reaction was immediate, she felt like her body was on fire, not in a painful way but in a wonderful blazing sensation through every nerve in her body. His kiss was insistent, intense, and she met him with equal fervor. She wrapped her arms around his neck and their bodies were flush against each other. When she felt his hook at the small of her back she barely registered, only noticing because of the coolness of the steel. He seemed to tense, waiting on her reaction, and when there wasn't one he wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled her closer, as if that was even possible. She felt herself melt against him, and vaguely wondered how he could stand to be in leather in the middle of a jungle while pressed against her body that was clearly on fire.

When he broke the kiss too soon, she felt herself grasping at him to pull him back to her. And reluctantly he stepped back, his fingers going to his lips as he stared at her through hooded eyes. 

"Bloody hell, Emma, what  _are_  you doing to me?" he asked so quietly that she barely heard him.

She felt herself gravitating toward him, chasing the warmth of him, missing the feel of him against her.

"Hook -"

"No," he said, shortly, eyes downcast. "If you come to me now, this will escalate and neither you or I want that here, now." he met her eyes again and there was a fire behind them that made her gasp, she knew he was right and she just shook her head, both disappointed and understanding.

"Okay." she said in a breathy whisper, after what seemed like a long while of them just staring at each other while standing just beyond arm's length. "Okay." She said again with more conviction. "We'll finish this when we get home." 

"Aye," he said, the flirtatious smirk back, but something crossed his face then. "But Storybrooke isn't my home, love."

She considered that for a moment, and she shrugged. 

"It could be."

* * *

He watches as they walk up the gangplank to board the Jolly Roger and he holds his breath when he sees her, relief flowing through him at the sight of her unharmed.

Emma is in front, always leading the way, holding Henry in her arms. He looks to be unconscious, but when Hook see her face, the worry etched deep into it, the red rimmed eyes, the tight-lipped expression, he knows something is wrong.

 

Baelfire is behind her, trying to place his hand on her back, some kind of reassuring pat and he watched as she shrugs off the touch, and Neal’s face falls. 

 

Regina is pulling up the rear of the grim little parade, her face a horrible scowl of dangerous anger. Yes, he’d seen that look before, and he knows someone would be paying.. for what?

 

Just then they get close enough for him to see Henry’s lifeless body. He isn’t unconscious, he knows by the lack of color in his skin, the stiffness of his limbs. He lets go of the breath he’d been holding and watches Emma’s face as she explains quietly, as if something had taken all of her breath, that Henry had  _given_  his heart to Pan.

 

Hook watches as the color drains from the faces of her parents, as Regina’s hands become alight with uncontrolled energy, as Neal tries once again to comfort Emma. But he sees the walls there, she is building them up to keep all of them out, to keep herself from feeling the hopelessness of this loss. He sees it in her determined face, she won’t cry another tear today.

 

He stays back, feeling unnecessary in this time of grief, feeling like he doesn’t want to be yet another person crowding her in her current state.

 

But he watches. Always watching her, ready to be there in a moment if she needs him. 

 

He watches as Snow approaches her, trying to take hold of her hand, trying to comfort the daughter she’s just met, with the loss of the son Emma had only known she could be a mother to in the last year. He watches as she gives her mother a weak smile, surely telling her she’ll be okay, and Snow - looking hopeless - backs away to give her space.

 

The prince kneels down next to her later, she’s sitting on the deck stroking Henry’s hair where he lays, muttering something he can’t make out. Charming is most likely telling her there’s hope, that’s something those heroes always say, and he watches as she shakes her head solemnly. The Prince gives up after a moment, and returns to his wife’s side.

 

Some time passes before Neal’s attempt. He sits across from her, so Henry is between them, and when she lifts her eyes to look at him, Hook has to look away. He’s certain this will be the voice she finally hears, he can see the love in her eyes, and he tries to tell himself the realization isn’t killing him inside.

 

"How dare you," he hears her growl at his old friend and his head snaps up to see.

 

"Emma, I didn’t mean - I just -" he’s stumbling over some sort of apology and Emma is on her feet, her eyes blazing with fury. Whatever she says next is under her breath as she glances around and sees they’ve gained an audience. But whatever it was, it is enough for Neal to walk away, hands up in a placating manner.

 

She sinks back to her knees, shaking her head, and continues muttering something to Henry’s body.

 

He’s watching her like this, wishing he had something to say, some way to comfort her, when Bae approaches the helm. Hook almost doesn’t notice him, until he clears his throat to grab his attention.

 

"Do you think, maybe, you could talk to her?" he asks tentatively, and it seems like an eternity passes while the shock of this request washes over him.

 

"Me?" he asks in a whisper, unsure of what game is being played here. Perhaps Neal just wants her mad at him too, even the playing field.

 

"Look, I don’t have to like it, but I’d be lying to myself if I said I hadn’t noticed the connection you two have." He says suddenly, angrily, and Hook is surprised by this revelation.

 

"What makes you think I would succeed where you’ve all failed?" He asks Neal quietly.

 

He responds with a sigh. “I don’t know if you will, but she’s going to freeze, she’s clearly in shock, she won’t listen to reason, I just want her to be okay.”

 

Hook considers this for a moment. 

 

"She’s not going to be, not unless we find a way to fix this." He says, knowingly.

 

"I know… but maybe you can help at least snap her out of it." Neal says dejectedly. 

 

Hook sighs, he’s not sure he can do anything to help, but he knows Neal is right, they can’t afford for her to be in shock the whole trip back to Storybrooke.

 

"Take the helm." he commands as he goes to speak with her.

 

Up close, the sight of her makes his heart break. Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen from tears shed and unshed. Her hands are shaking as she strokes Henry’s hair, and he can see the goosebumps on her arms, yet she hasn’t moved to put on a warmer garment. He sighs again, removing his jacket and placing it on her shoulders as he gets close. She glances up to him and something crosses her eyes, surprise maybe, before she offers him the ghost of a smile.

 

"Thanks." she croaks, and the sound makes something inside him clench in pain, and he sits beside her on the deck.

 

She doesn’t look at him again, but begins speaking quietly.

 

"There’s nothing you can say." she whispers.

 

"I know, love. Just thought you could use some company." he replies.

 

She looks at him this time with confusion evident on her features and cocks her head to the side as if she’s expecting him to say more. When he doesn’t, she nods slightly and places her left hand in his right. They sit there quietly for long minutes before she speaks.

 

"They all want me to just be okay." she says, shivering - he’s unsure whether from the cold or the situation.

 

Without thinking he removes his hand from hers and puts his arm around her shoulder. 

 

"They don’t like seeing you in pain, darling. No one expects you to be okay." he says, and is pleasantly surprised when she leans her head against his shoulder and sighs.

 

"Do you think we’ll find a way -" she trails off at the end of her question, unable to form the words.

 

"You always do, Emma, I have complete faith that this will be no different." He says softly, and feels her nod against his shoulder.

 

He’s not sure she believes him, and he’s not even sure there is a way to get Henry back, but he knows if there is, Emma Swan will find it, and he’ll be by her side every step of the way.


End file.
